


Cambot’s First Kiss

by LunaMoth116



Series: Down to Earth [3]
Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Cambot Needs More Love, Crack Treated Seriously, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff and Crack, Other, Post-Series, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 07:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15658566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaMoth116/pseuds/LunaMoth116
Summary: So…who kissed Cambot at Joel and Mike’s wedding?Title from…well, what it says on the tin.





	Cambot’s First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Satelles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782027) by [Feelysonheelys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelysonheelys/pseuds/Feelysonheelys). 



> _Um…I don’t know, folks. I really don’t. All I can tell you is that ever since Joel and Mike’s wedding, I’ve been wondering who kissed Cambot in the coatroom, but he was a gentlebot and wouldn’t tell me until recently. Like I’ve always said, Cambot needs more love… *g* If you’re unfamiliar with this ’verse, all you really need to know is that this is set near the end of the previous fic, during Joel and Mike’s wedding reception. How they made it to their wedding is another story (ha. Yes, I crack myself up)._   
>  _Special thanks go to Dandelionish, who treats “I know who kissed Cambot” as a completely normal thing for someone to say; to Feelysonheelys, whose touching and amusing depiction of Cambot’s inner voice in “Satelles” (which you should read[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782027), btw) was wonderfully inspiring; and to Robert Caputo, the author of [this National Geographic article](https://www.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-tips/portrait-photography-tips/) on portrait and photography tips, which gave me more insight into how Cambot might see the world._   
>  _When I first got this idea, it was a toss-up as to whether it would be fluff or crack. I think it ended up a little of both. *g* I won’t lie — this one was a challenge, but darned if it wasn’t a lot of fun. As with many nonverbal characters, even though Cambot doesn’t speak, he still has a lot to say. Thank you for reading!_
> 
> **Disclaimer:** _I don’t own anything, but the universe where I do must be…weird. (Not that I wouldn’t want to live there, of course.)_

_“The goal is not to change your subjects, but for the subject to change the photographer.”_

_~ Anonymous_

 

Cambot was always watching. That was simply what he had been made — no, _created_ — to do. It was even in his _name_. His purpose in existing was to record, not simply to observe but to document, and so he’d always had to be alert, to make sure his capable eye captured anything of interest (and even things that weren’t). Even now that he didn’t _have_ to record and transmit any longer, a lifetime of habit was hard to shake. That said, he didn’t mind at all; so many beings here on Earth seemed to eternally be searching for a purpose in life and never finding it, whereas he had one ready-made. So, while he enjoyed his new freedom to do anything he wished, he found himself always observing, always looking out, just as he had always done.

So of course he met _her_ the one time he _wasn’t_ watching.

At Joel and Mike’s behest, he’d been relieved of his usual duties at their wedding by their hired photographer, but of course was welcome to take his own photos and videos as he liked. With the reception in full swing, Cambot found himself hovering aimlessly around the fringes, trying to take candids the photographer might not catch.

There! Crow and one of Joel’s nephews had grabbed some leftover silverware and empty glasses and set them up on an empty table. They were playing them in a tuneless cacophony that seemed to have a melody only they could discern — and Tom too, who was conducting them with drinking straws. Careful to keep his distance, Cambot pointed and shot. Perfect.

He moved to a different angle. Maybe just one more…

_OOF!_

“Oh, I’m sorry!” A young woman’s voice sounded anxiously over the din of the reception — at least, to Cambot. He couldn’t see who it belonged to through a lens full of white sleeve.

Quickly, once he had regained his equilibrium, he pulled back, shaking his lens clear, curious to see who he had bumped into.

It was one of the waitstaff, a young woman probably no older than nineteen or twenty, wearing the same starched white shirt and black pants as her coworkers. Her small brass name tag read “MARIA”.

“Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly. “Really should have looked where I was going. You’d think after the third dropped tray, I’d remember that.”

Curious, Cambot pulled back just enough for a better look.

She wasn’t what a human’s eye might have found “pretty”, but she had a face any camera would love. Large, bright eyes; shining waves of dark hair; makeup carefully applied to highlight, rather than hide her features; a radiant, if flustered smile…those traits alone would pull her out of any group shot. She’d be the extra in a crowd scene who everyone watching would see and remember, if only for a minute or two. There was a natural quality to her affect that was rather appealing. Most people became board-stiff and posed under Cambot’s gaze, forced veneers of perfection masking real emotion. Instead, Maria was relaxed, letting every tiny gesture express itself — brushing her hair away, scraping under a nail — without a care in the world as to how imperfect she might seem.

Cambot had never seen anyone like her before.

As he took her in, Maria bit her lip. “I hope I didn’t ruin your shot.”

Cambot shook from side to side. The first photo would suffice.

“Well, that’s good.” Maria tilted her head, seeming to study him for a moment. For all the times Cambot had zoomed in on others (politely, of course, after a lecture or two from Joel), seldom had anyone turned such a gaze on him. It was almost…intriguing.

“You’re one of the Robinson-Nelsons, right?” She paused to think as Cambot nodded. “You’re…Cambot?”

Cambot nodded again.

“You know, I think I’ve seen you somewhere before. I just can’t remember where.” She thought harder as Cambot was silent, transfixed, their gazes locked. “It’s not like I see hovering sentient cameras _everywhere_ …well, except for that one weekend…”

Even if he had asked, Cambot would never learn the story of that one weekend, as Maria suddenly snapped her manicured fingers, her eyes alight with recognition. “I saw you at the photo club exhibition last month! You got third place in the People category.”

Cambot hummed proudly. He didn’t always win awards, or even honorable mentions, but he no longer entered the club contests looking for glory. Still, he would never complain about adding another ribbon to his display.

Maria placed her hands on her hips, smiling at him playfully. “You beat out my Uncle Vinny. He almost always gets on the podium in that category. Not this time.”

Vinny? Cambot searched his memory banks for a moment. Oh — she must have meant Vincent Palmieri, who’d been a club member for nearly five years. He and Cambot were on friendly terms, though they hadn’t spoken much. Cambot searched his banks further, wondering if he’d caught a glimpse of Maria at the last exhibition, or maybe others before then.

After a minute or two of searching, he concluded that if he had, she’d been out of focus.

“Uncle Vinny pointed you out,” Maria continued, oblivious. “I wondered who had beaten him, and he showed me some of your other photos, and they were all great. But of course, I wondered — what kind of name is ‘Cambot’? Then he told me about you, and it all made sense. Sort of.”

Cambot beeped. The other club members had been told a filtered version of his origins, clear enough to be (mostly) plausible without inviting too many questions. It didn’t seem to matter to them, anyway; they liked his work and he got on well with most of them, no matter where he came from.

“Oh, what was I thinking?” Maria smacked her forehead, a careless, candid gesture. “I know your name, but you don’t know mine. Or…maybe you do,” she added, glancing down at her name tag with a slight chuckle.

Cambot whirred in response.

“Anyway, I’m Maria. Maria Palmieri.” Automatically, she offered her hand, but with no answering one to shake, she eventually opted for a little wave instead, her cheeks flushing slightly as she smiled awkwardly, like someone in a vacation film who’d just been told the camera was rolling.

Everything about this woman felt genuine, unscripted. To Cambot, that was…odd, but strangely refreshing. He’d spent so much time observing Joel, Mike, and his fellow ’bots that he could almost predict their every move. This had proven to be surprisingly helpful up in space, since he needed to anticipate what they might do in order to get the best shot (no easy task with Tom and Crow, especially). Otherwise, by the time he saw it, it might already be too late. He’d grown so used to sensing what the rest of the Robinson-Nelsons were about to do, he had forgotten what it was like to simply watch and wait, to try to learn someone else’s behavior. If he studied Maria carefully enough, he could figure her out, too.

So far, though, she wasn’t making it easy — or was he just having trouble focusing? Her next move was to lean towards him confidentially, almost whisper-close, and he made no attempt to back away. It wasn’t the first close-up he’d ever been privy to, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Don’t tell Uncle Vinny I said this,” she said in a low tone, “but you totally deserved to beat him this time.”

Cambot beeped and bobbed gratefully, extending his lens a little. He took the opportunity to look carefully at her up close. Either she was no stranger to a camera lens or she didn’t see him as such, simply talking to him as she might talk to anyone. Had she ever posed for portraits? Was she ever the subject of any of Vincent’s shots? Surely he would have remembered seeing those, with the way her long lashes fringed her eyes, the tendrils of dark hair framing her face, the white crescent of her smile…

Would she let him film her?

“God, who even won first and second? Oh, who cares. I don’t remember.” Maria waved her hand dismissively. For that matter, neither did Cambot at this moment, as she looked back at him. “I think you could have beaten them, too.”

Cambot just looked back at her, tilting slightly to one side.

“No, really. I’ve seen a lot of photos of people kissing, but the way you shot those two…” She gestured vaguely towards Joel and Mike, who were some distance away chatting with friends. “It was, well, beautiful. Tasteful but romantic. One look and you could see right away how much they love each other, without a single word. Of course, the moonrise background certainly didn’t hurt.”

Cambot was still, the noise of the reception behind them seeming to fade into silence. As with everything else about Maria, he hadn’t expected to hear _any_ of that. He barely remembered taking that photo, had pulled it from his collection at the last minute before the contest deadline, the only photo he was the least dissatisfied with, just so he’d have _something_ to enter. Winning third had come as a pleasant surprise.

Kind of like this moment.

“I looked at it, and I thought, _that_ is why people kiss,” Maria went on. “Everyone should have a kiss like that.” She bit her lip again, gaze falling from Cambot’s, though he kept his closely on her.

He didn’t have to look anywhere else. Didn’t want to.

She was silent for a few moments before glancing back up at him, an inquisitive gleam in her eye. “Can I ask you something personal?”

Cambot nodded. How personal could she possibly get? Having spent his entire existence filming the lives of everyone else around him, he wasn’t so sure what the word meant anymore.

Just when he had thought she might not surprise him this time, she proceeded to ask him the one question that had never even crossed his mind.

“Have you ever been kissed, Cambot?”

Cambot slowly shook from side to side. He’d been witness to many other kisses, aside from Joel and Mike — Gypsy and Mike, Tom and Joel, even Crow had probably been kissed at least once and right now he just couldn’t think of when. He’d filmed without comment, without thought to his own station, never once desiring a kiss of his own.

Never thinking he _could_ have a kiss of his own.

“Well, that’s kind of a shame.” Maria looked at him sympathetically.

Cambot bobbed in an attempt at a shrug, not knowing how else to respond. Would she ever stop being a puzzle to him?

She tilted her head, hair falling across her shoulder. “Everybody should be kissed, Cambot,” she said. “Well, and often, and by someone who knows how.”

Cambot beeped; Maria shrugged, smiling a little. “Hey, sixty-odd years later, it’s still true.”

They were quiet as she looked at him thoughtfully, chewing on her lip for a moment. She seemed to be considering something, and Cambot could not begin to guess at what.

After a minute or two, she looked around, then shook her head and gestured to him. “Come with me.”

As if he could leave her _now._ Cambot obediently followed her along the edge of the room, ducking around passing guests and staff, until they were almost at the front entrance. Maria glanced around furtively, then ducked into the coatroom, motioning for him to come in.

Near the middle of the poorly-lit, empty room (thanks to the comfortable August weather), Maria was leaning between hooks against a white wall, looking at him shyly. Cambot moved closer to her, and the dull roar of the reception grew even more distant.

He was hovering in front of her now, every detail of her features softened in the low orange light. She drew a slow breath, running a hand through her glorious hair before she spoke.

“We’ve all got to start somewhere.” Her smile could have melted snow. “If it’s okay with you…I wouldn’t mind being your first.”

Cambot had no idea afterwards whether he nodded assent or if he just hovered towards her, but it didn’t matter because the next thing he knew her hands were cupping his body gently, so gently, and there was nowhere else he wanted to be, his lens filled with _her_ and only her, and for this moment, this little piece of time, there was no one else but _her_ and him, and he was never going to leave her grasp, leave this room, he was going to stay like this with _her_ until time ran out, cradled in the softest pair of hands that had ever held him.

Then she was pulling him closer — or was he falling towards her? — and gently pressing her lips to his lens, and for once all thoughts of recording this moment vanished from his consciousness.

No image on film could ever capture the feel of her kiss. And even if it could, he wasn’t about to share it.

She released him much too soon, stepping back with a shy smile, and Cambot nearly dropped out of his hover. The mark of her kiss stained his lens, and he could not have cared less.

It had been just an instant, a moment frozen in time — and it was enough.

“I should get back to work,” Maria said softly. She indicated the doorway. “After you.”

Cambot hovered out in a daze, nearly smacking into the frame as he left. Maria’s soft laughter echoed behind him as she followed, joining him closer to the main room. They stood there together, quietly observing the reception — the laughter, the chatter, the music, the thrum of activity. Everyone was talking, dancing, eating, having a good time.

As usual, Cambot just watched in silence.

But at least this time he wasn’t alone.

A minute or so passed before Maria spoke just one word.

“Cambot.”

Cambot turned to look at her, and everything else faded out of focus. She’d be stepping away in a few moments, with so much left unsaid. He hadn’t been tethered for years, had savored that freedom, and yet now he wished he had a grasp just to hold her hand, to stay at her side a little longer. Even if he could speak, how could he express to her what she had just given him?

As he looked at her, saw the indescribable tenderness that had come over her face, he realized something. Maybe she already understood.

Maria smiled. “You know, the next exhibition’s in a couple weeks. Will I see you there?”

Cambot bobbed and whirred in response.

“Good. Keep Uncle Vinny on his toes, okay?” Maria reached over gingerly and patted him, a bit more confidently as he leaned into her touch. “Maybe I’ll see you before then, too.”

Cambot chirped happily; Maria laughed. “All right, I really need to get back to work. It was good to meet you, Cambot. See you later.”

She gave him a little wave as she headed towards the kitchen, and it was all Cambot could do not to dart right after her. Aimlessly, just to give himself something to do, he began to drift around the room again, trying to look for more candid opportunities but not finding a single one.

He did, however, accidentally find Mike, on his way back from the men’s room.

“Hey, Cambot!” Luckily, for once Mike was paying attention and quickly put out a hand to stop them from colliding. Cambot turned to look at him, but said nothing.

“Careful where you’re going, buddy.” Mike stepped back, smiling. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Are you having a good time?”

All Cambot could do was nod, grateful for once that he couldn’t say much more.

“Good.” Mike took another look at him. “Hold on, your bow tie’s all crooked. Let me just…”

Cambot obliged, holding still as Mike fixed his tie, his hands more worn but no less gentle than Maria’s.

“There we go — wait.” Mike leaned closer, staring in surprise. “Cambot…is that _lipstick_ on your lens?”

Cambot said nothing, despite the rosy tint beginning to blossom in his view.

“Hang on, let me see if I can —” Mike grabbed a cloth napkin someone had tossed on a nearby table. Cambot immediately moved in front of him, shaking from side to side.

“No?” Mike raised an eyebrow as he put the napkin down. “All right, we can wash it off later. And you don’t have to tell me how it got there, unless you want to. Okay?”

Cambot beeped gratefully.

“Good. Just be prepared for other people to ask about it. And by other people, I mean Tom and Crow.” Mike patted Cambot, his wedding ring tapping against Cambot’s side. “I have to go find Joel. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Cambot only nodded as Mike walked away.

 _Joel._ Was it like that for them when they kissed, too? He had _yards_ of footage of them kissing, but had he ever really stopped to look at it? To think about what he was capturing, instead of just what he was seeing?

Maybe a kiss wasn’t just a kiss.

And maybe Maria wasn’t just another subject.

Two weeks. Plenty of time to enter another photo.

He’d see her again soon. Cambot felt his circuitry hum at the thought.

This time, he’d be watching for her.


End file.
